Three Little Words
by Lifeasanamazon
Summary: He has his definition now. He has his words. It’s both of them. CJT


Author: Angie

Email: AngieSuth@aol.com or angiesuth@hotmail.com 

Title:  Three Little Words

Characters: CJ/T

Rating: PG-13

Summary: He has his definition now. He has his words. It's both of them.

Disclaimer: Not mine at all. 

Spoilers: Well, assume everything and nothing. It's the current spirit.

Feedback: Always appreciated.

A/N: Maeve got me going again. This is hers.

Rhonda – because she is my safety net and my friend.

IDreamofAJ and Kate make me feel better about it all.

Archived at 

This is slushy. I went for slushy because I find the 'real thing' so … well, you know what I mean. I needed a lift and slushy did it for me.

*

Three Little Words

*

He looks at the woman lying sleeping beside him, her face half lit silver soft. 

Lovely.

*

"You're pissed at Will. I'm pissed at Will."

He watches her slide into his office and close the door, her face a mask of … he's not sure what. He's starting to forget when her face was anything but. 

"I'm not pissed at Will." He looks down at his desk and fingers the papers there with just a little more force than he should, stopping before he thinks she can notice, before she comments.

"A tree died for that. Don't prolong its pain," she comments.

"I'm not pissed at Will. And you don't need to be either." The white sheets flatten beneath his palm. He's so angry he can hardly speak.

"He's not leaving _you_, you know, Toby." 

CJ perches on his desk, her hand rests momentarily on his and he feels the steam in his ears and his nose dissipate. Just enough.

"He's not playing by the rules, CJ." He chokes out the words, the admission that she may not be totally wrong, at least about this.

"They're your rules, Toby, not his. Not anybody else's." Her voice is a murmur now, intensely private, and if he were to look up he is sure that they would brush noses.

He almost gives into temptation.

"They're your rules too, CJ." 

He feels the air move and knows she is standing. She's not going to get away that easily. He owes her this.

"They _are_ your rules too, CJ and you know it. There is a word for what you are."

He smiles at her raised eyebrow. "Well, there is more than one, actually, but I'm only offering this one … for now."

He watches the confusion in her eyes and feels his heart lift as curiosity gets the better of her.

"Don't just stand there, Toby, being … _enigmatic_. I'm not going to hang around you all day, just in case. Say what you need to say and let me go."

"Loyal".

There, he thinks, it's out there now, hanging in the air.

She blinks and swallows it down. "That's it?"

"It's enough." And to him it is. To him it is everything. For now.

There is a flash of warmth in her gaze that thrills him deeply. She's never been able to take a compliment from him, and she's struggling now. He supposes she's not had enough practice. He really should do something about that.

She appears speechless, so he takes pity.

"They are your rules, CJ. You don't leave." His voice drops to a whisper, "And I'm going to try and play by your rules too."

He thinks that she has gone, but when he looks up, she is staring at him. He sees her approach and knows his eyes betray his anxiety, his discomfort.

She leans closes and kisses him. Her breath is warm and coffee-sweet on his cheek. Her hair softly tickles his nose. He likes it.

"Thank you, my friend."

And then she goes.

He watches her hips swing, just slightly.

*

Carol has a boyfriend. He heard about it from the new girl, the girl whose face he knows but not her name. Just that she's not Ginger. Carol has a boyfriend and she looks five years younger and she floats instead of walks.

This he has to see.

Toby meanders towards CJ's office. He can see her sitting in Carol's chair, swinging her legs and spinning to follow the younger woman as she replaces files. NotGinger was right. Carol does float. NotGinger, however, didn't say that CJ was looking lost, but then she wouldn't see that. He does though.

He stops close enough to listen, but not close enough to intrude.

"So when did you get them?" CJ kicks with a foot and turns the chair the other way.

"This morning. They were on my pillow when I woke up. I mean, CJ. Have you ever had that?" Carol is positively glowing.

"Nope, most I've had left on my pillow are a few stray hairs, identity unknown. I only claim them if they're not gray."

"Ben called again, CJ", Carol says, hope in her voice.

"Stop trying the Ben thing, Carol. It's not going to work. Anyway, I was asking you about your love life, not delving into the murky and solitary waters of my own." She catches Carol's arm as she passes. "When am I going to meet him?"

"You're worse than my mother, CJ!" Carol laughs as she shakes off the hand. "He's scared of meeting you …"

Toby notes Carol's distress at her slip.

"I … didn't mean that he's heard … I only meant that … it's just you are always on TV, you are so well known."

CJ laughs. "Hey! I'd be worried if he wasn't just a little bit frightened – how am I going to protect you properly if I can't inspire fear and trepidation in the men you meet?"

Toby can see the relief shine bright on Carol's face, knows that the younger woman is devoted to CJ, would never want to hurt her. Knows that all the female staff adore CJ, think she's glorious and beautiful and funny and … would keep their boyfriends and husbands away, just in case they were smitten, blinded by the light. He knows how that feels most days too.

He knows that CJ has never been more lonely.

Lonely. He doesn't want to share that word with her.

*

"I made pasta."

CJ looks up in alarm.

"Is that some kind of code that I don't know about? Is the building on fire?"

Toby grins and shakes his head. She can make him smile after a shit filled day. That has to be worth pasta.

"I made pasta. You want to come and eat some?"

"Do I want to eat pasta that you made? Do I look like a woman with a death wish?" 

She takes the sting out of her words with the sunniest smile he's seen for  … weeks. He knows that she knows he can cook. That makes him smile too. 

Any moment now they could be locked up for random cheerfulness in a time of misery. He's almost waiting for alarm bells to ring and security to arrive.

"Has this pasta been cooking since this morning? Because I'm not sure my stomach can handle one of your special efforts."

He loves it when she's like this.

"I made it fresh this morning. It's waiting to be cooked. I'll even curl it into a 'C' and a 'J' for you."

She looks startled. "You would?"

"No. But I'd do most other things and that will have to do you."

"It will."

And he is amazed when she kisses him again.

She follows him home, then disappears to the corner to buy wine. He goes inside and puts the water onto boil. He wants them to eat straight away. He's been thinking about fresh pasta and Parmigiano Reggiano and good olive oil and some basil. Been thinking about it and other things all day. He hopes she buys a classy white.

He opens the door and she hands it to him smiling. It's good and it's chilled. He thinks things are looking up.

She watches him cook and sips at her wine.

"It's been a long time, Toby."

He nods in agreement, unwilling to break the mood; needing to eat. "Set the table, would you?"

He hears her move behind him. It has been a while, but he takes comfort in her knowing where to find dishes and forks.

When he turns round, steaming bowls in hand, she is already seated. He places hers in front of her and watches as she forks the food into her mouth with enthusiasm. He sits and follows. They eat in silence.

"That was unsurprisingly good. I should force you to cook for me more often." CJ plays with a solitary strand in her dish.

He picks up the bottle. "Let's finish this in the other room. Bring your glass."

They sink comfortably on to the couch and Toby fills the wine glasses. He watches her toe off her shoes and pats the cushion next to him, hoping that the alcohol already in her bloodstream will let her assume their pre-children intimacy.

She scans the room as she lifts her legs, curling her toes into the soft crimson.

"I can see your reading has had to diversify."

He follows her gaze and takes in the scattered children's picture books; sparks of color in the mountain of blue, brown and black. 

"Yeah, well, I have to instill good habits early. They're not just gonna _play_ when they're here."

She smiles again, and he realizes that she is the only person in the world who knows what he means. Knows that he has mastered the silly voices and the crawling-chasing and the peek-a-boo. Knows that the rubber duck in the bathroom isn't just for him. Knows he likes to put on a front.

She doesn't call him on it and he likes that.

She sighs and he rubs a foot with the heel of his hand.

"It's no fun anymore, Toby."

He doesn't pretend he doesn't understand what she's saying. He can't bring himself to be flip, because he knows what she means. He feels it himself.

"No. It's no fun."

She looks desperately at him.

"Well, it never was fun for me, but I liked watching you have fun. That has always been the fun part for me." His effort to cheer her fails, but she flickers her gratitude.

"There's no joy in going to work, anymore. It's always been hard, but we always got along; had the same goals and dreams." She blinks hard. "I'm not sure we're even shooting the same way anymore. And … I always _liked_ coming to work, Toby. There's not a huge amount more in my life. I liked the people I worked with and I have always thought they liked me. I don't have that certainty now."

"I like you, CJ." He rubs her foot again, but can't quite meet her eyes.

"Yeah. I know you do. I know where I stand with you, Toby. I can always come and be yelled at."

He lifts his hand and she catches it, placing it back on her ankle with a squeeze.

"And … and other things too."

They sit in silence for a moment, his hand stroking lazily, both staring at the dark television screen.

He's not sure what starts it, but once it has started, he can't stop.

He turns to look at her, really look at her. He takes in the clear eyes, the fine brows; lets his eyes linger on the upward sweep of her lips, always on the verge of a smile. He notes her small ears and long neck; the strong line of her jaw. His hand on her foot reaches out to touch her cheek and he sees her smile as she leans into it.

"Lovely."

"What was that, Toby?"

"I said, 'lovely'"

He sees her flush and can sense her bewilderment. He doesn't know if this is the stupidest or the cleverest thing he has ever done, but there's no way he's going to stop now.

The fingers on her cheek stroke behind her ear and he watches her eyes widen as he brushes her bottom lip with his thumb. He leans towards her, intending to return the kiss-gifts she gave him earlier, wanting to smell her and feel her velvet on his lips. His eyes flutter shut at the final moment and he sighs as he makes contact.

Her hand on his back pulls him forward suddenly, and her knees part so that he falls almost full length against her. He finds himself in a crushing hug, and he wonders for a half-minute if that is all this is. A hug.

The half-minute is up and she hasn't moved; still has her arms wrapped tightly around him. He can feel her warmth pressing against him, the softness of her breasts against his chest making him crave more. More than this. More than sex. Just more.

Her lips have found his neck now; baby kisses, sweet and gentle … but persistent. And he reciprocates, caressing the hollow behind her lobe, dragging his bottom lip against her skin. Her tongue finds its mark and he flows suit. He doesn't think he has found anything more erotic in his life than her hands on his back and her tongue at his neck.

He slides the arm that was round her waist, up to her breast and pauses. He pulls back to look at her; sees the lust in her eyes and the love in her smile, so he kisses her hard on the mouth and allows his hand to dip into her blouse. 

He gasps when she moans.

*

The moonlight caresses her and he lets his eyes feast on her face. Lets them trail down the length of her, pulling back the soft cotton with his fingers as his hands follow his eyes. She shivers in the cool air and he pulls her gently to him, wrapping her up in his warmth, feeling her smile against his chest.

She mutters and he just catches the words, "That was unsurprisingly good … I should force you to love me more often."

"You don't need to force me, CJ."

He has his definition now. He has his words. It's both of them.

Loyal. Lonely. Lovely …

CJ.

"I love you."

Just three little words.

Just in time. 

They'll be waiting on her pillow, and so will he.

The End.


End file.
